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One Piece Breaking the Gene Lock
Genshin Impact: I am King Arthur
Naruto: Reviving the Fourth Hokage from the Start
"Ryūjin Jakka (Flowing Blade Like Flame)…"
Genryūsai's face changed.
As the strongest Shinigami in a thousand years, he understood his own Zanpakutō better than anyone. The instant he saw the fiery phantom on the blade, he recognized it—the incarnated form of Ryūjin Jakka. It was breaking free of the sword's constraints, descending upon the Soul Society with a physical body.
Just thinking of the cataclysmic might of his bankai…
Genryūsai's expression sank. He gripped the hilt of Ryūjin Jakka without hesitation.
A crushing spiritual pressure erupted—so vast it made space itself feel heavy—pouring entirely into Ryūjin Jakka in an attempt to forcibly suppress its materialization.
But just then, Muramasa's ethereal voice drifted across the air.
"How foolish, Head-Captain. That is your own Zanpakutō. How could you possibly stop it from running toward freedom?"
Exactly as Muramasa said.
Even though Genryūsai's overwhelming reiatsu practically blanketed all of First Division—ripping surrounding buildings apart like a storm and pressing the paving stones half a meter into the earth—deadly for the many Shinigami crushed flat, faces ashen and clawing at their throats for breath they could not draw…
Even that terror of reiatsu could not halt Ryūjin Jakka's incarnation.
Beside the blade, the flame-shaped silhouette was already taking human size; its features were sharpening by the heartbeat, its spiritual pressure surging—threatening to climb to Genryūsai's own level.
Seeing this, Genryūsai grew heavier at heart.
Muramasa hadn't lied. Before a Zanpakutō fully incarnates, his flames cannot truly harm it. In the end, it is still his own Zanpakutō.
Finding this approach futile, Genryūsai stamped a foot and vanished from First Division in an instant with peerless shunpo.
A few seconds later, he appeared in a secluded cavern. He raised his right hand toward the cave mouth, layering powerful Bakudō seals one after another. Then he turned that same hand upon himself—sealing both himself and the sword.
When the final stroke of the self-seal fell, Genryūsai slowly closed his eyes. The Ryūjin Jakka that had been relentlessly incarnating fell silent along with him.
After a moment, Muramasa's figure appeared at the entrance, eyes dark as he gazed in.
"As expected of the Head-Captain. You never disappoint."
Man and sword, self-sealed together—now even he couldn't continue to coax Ryūjin Jakka to his side. Unless he broke that self-imposed barrier…
Muramasa stretched out a hand to touch the threshold—lightning exploded, savage thunder ravaged the stone. He snatched his hand back—fingertips charred black.
He stared deeply at the cavern and then turned away, fading from sight.
Elsewhere—inside First Division.
Byakuya, Soi fong, Sajin, Shunsui, Jūshirō, and Tōshirō rushed over in short order. Along with them came many vice-captains and strong-seat Shinigami—Rukia, Chōjirō, Nanao, Renji, Ikkaku, Yumichika, Shūhei, Izuru…
All wore grave faces as they took in the devastation.
Firefields everywhere. A massive rift cleaved straight through First Division, its depths still boiling with infernal flame like a blaze from Hell itself. At the epicenter, the land had been shredded to a ruin by a monstrous pressure.
And yet—silence.
As if this were some capricious natural disaster.
Jūshirō looked to Shunsui, frowning. "Shunsui, Soi fong—you two were the fastest. Did you see the Head-Captain?"
Shunsui scratched beneath his hat with a helpless sigh. "It was already like this when I got here. Never saw the old man."
Soi fong's tone was cold. "I didn't see the Head-Captain—or an enemy."
All around, brows furrowed.
It was their first time facing something this bizarre: a battlefield carved by a war, but no enemy presence—only the Head-Captain's attack marks. And even he had vanished.
Shunsui flashed and hauled over a pale First Division trooper. "What happened here!?"
"I—I don't know," the man stammered. "Suddenly it was fire, sky to ground—then that crushing reiatsu…"
"Anything else?" Soi fong pressed. "Did you sense an enemy's reiatsu?"
The trooper shook his head. "Only the Head-Captain's. It was so heavy I could barely breathe."
Frowns deepened.
Tōshirō muttered, "Don't tell me Aizen is back?"
Byakuya replied flatly, "Even if Aizen returned, he would not make the Head-Captain vanish without a sound."
No one disagreed. The Head-Captain was the strongest Shinigami in a millennium. Even if Kyōka Suigetsu (Mirror Flower, Water Moon) prevented him from killing Aizen, defeat—especially this quickly—was unthinkable.
Shunsui steadied his hat, voice light but eyes grave. "Everyone, it seems we've met quite the troublesome enemy."
Jūshirō nodded, coughing twice. "Our priority is to find the Head-Captain. With his power, he cannot simply vanish without a trace."
Sajin rumbled, "And we must seek the enemy. I refuse to believe someone can disappear into thin air."
They conferred quickly and set a course of action.
Sajin's gaze then swept the group. "Where is Kenpachi? With all this noise, there's no way he didn't hear."
Knowing Kenpachi's nature, he'd be first to charge into something like this. Yet today he had not appeared. Did he cause this? Or is he allied with the culprit?
While Sajin's thoughts spun, Ikkaku coughed and spoke wryly, "Captain ran faster than me. But with Vice-Captain Yachiru leading… he's probably still lost."
The captains fell silent, spreading their sensing threads—only to find Kenpachi raging in a dead-end alley, splitting it apart with a single slash. On his shoulder, Yachiru beamed, pointing the way.
"Ken-chan, Ken-chan! This way, this way! We'll reach First Division for sure! Yachiru's memory never fails!"
Kenpachi scowled. "That's what you said the last eight dead ends."
Yachiru puffed her cheeks. "That's not my fault! It's Cole's fault for eating so many walls and streets, the whole Seireitei had to be rebuilt!"
Following her "guidance," Kenpachi sprinted—
—and hit another dead end.
The captains withdrew their senses in wordless exasperation.
Shunsui sighed. "Ikkaku, go fetch your captain, or I fear Seireitei really will need rebuilding again."
Ikkaku nodded, mortified.
Just as he moved, delicate cherry blossoms began to fall from the sky—petals drifting as if it were the season to drink beneath the blooms. So lovely, so enchanting one's heart relaxed without meaning to.
Ikkaku opened his mouth—and the blossoms swept across his front.
Blood flashed.
"Shh! Shh! Shh…"
Hundreds of petal-blades flickered—keen as razors. In a heartbeat they carved hundreds of wounds along his body. Blood gushed, staining his clothes and the stones beneath his feet.
Ikkaku stared wide-eyed at the blossoms, turning with effort toward Byakuya. "Byakuya… Captain…"
He hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Faces darkened in an instant; captains snapped their gazes to Byakuya.
"Byakuya, what are you doing?"
"That's Senbonzakura!"
"Why attack Ikkaku!?"
"What happened!?"
Byakuya's pupils contracted. He seized his hilt. "Senbonzakura!?"
There was no mistaking it—the hundreds of cherry-blade petals were his Senbonzakura. But he had not released his sword—and would never strike Ikkaku without cause.
Before anyone could react, a cool female voice rang out:
"Some no Mai: Tsukishiro (First Dance: White Moon)!"
A pure-white circle bloomed beneath Tōshirō's feet. Piercing cold erupted from it, spearing straight into the heavens. In an instant, an ivory pillar of ice rose to the sky, sealing Tōshirō inside.
Shunsui slid a step back, drawing his blades, voice mild but edged. "Byakuya. Rukia. What exactly is the Kuchiki family planning?"
Rukia stared, shocked, at the sky-piercing ice. Only then did Shunsui's words register, and she flailed to explain, "N-no, it wasn't me! I never released my sword—and I'd never attack Captain Tōshirō…"
But even as she protested, the towering white column told the truth of the technique: her own Zanpakutō, Sode no Shirayuki (Sleeve of White Snow). It was unmistakably Some no Mai: Tsukishiro.
Yet she hadn't moved.
She barely finished before another cold voice cut the air:
"Bankai—Kōkō Gonryō Rikyū (Yellow Radiance, Strict Spirit Palace)!"
At once, the night above First Division flowered into blinding golden thunder, draping the sky like a splendid noble canopy. The heavens turned gold.
A captain-class reiatsu spread across the field.
Jūshirō coughed violently and looked up through ragged breaths. "That's… Chōjirō's bankai."
He whirled to the man. "Chōjirō, what are you doing? Why unleash your bankai?"
Shinigami who achieve bankai are typically made captains, but Chōjirō had been a rare exception—serving by the Head-Captain's side for centuries despite mastering bankai. And now, his bankai shone across the night.
Meeting Jūshirō's eyes, Chōjirō stared in shock at the sky. "W-what is this?"
He had not released bankai.
But the thunder above was unmistakably his.
There was no time to explain. With a thunderous roar, the golden canopy rained lances of lightning, pelting the assembled Shinigami. Skin crawled, hair rose; everyone dove and scattered under the barrage.
Shunsui retreated to range, hand on his hat, expression easy but gaze like a blade. "Yare yare… this is truly a pain."
As the Head-Captain's prize pupil, he was far from simple. After successive strikes from Senbonzakura, Sode no Shirayuki, and Gonryōmaru (Strict Spirit), he had his answer.
An unseen foe was using the powers of other Shinigami's Zanpakutō.
He didn't yet know how—but the way three different swords had just acted made one thing clear: this would be serious trouble.
While he thought, a pair of doll-like voices chimed behind him, sing-song:
"All flowing waves, become my shield!"
"All lightning, become my blade!"
Shunsui's eyes widened; he whirled. Two deep-blue, doll-sized figures—grinning—raised tiny palms toward him.
"Absorb!"
"Reflect!"
From the hand of the one who said "Reflect," dazzling gold burst forth. Shunsui drew without hesitation—one long, one short—and hewed the golden bolt apart.
Then he fixed the little figures with a hard look. "Who are you—and why are you using Jūshirō's Sōgyo no Kotowari (Twin Fish of Reason)…?"
"Schlk! Schlk!"
The wet sound of steel through flesh cut him off.
He looked down. Two blades—one long, one short—had speared through his chest, blood sliding down to paint them both crimson.
His eyes went wide to the limit, staring at the twin swords. "These are…"
He might forget others' blades, but his own he knew by heart: one long, one short—the only dual-sword Zanpakutō in Seireitei.
Two lilting female voices sounded behind him:
"Hana-kaze midarete, hana kami naki! (The flower-wind rages, the flower god weeps!)"
"Ten-kaze midarete, oni wa warau! (The heaven-wind rages, the demon laughs!)"
Steel slid free; pain bloomed as the twin swords withdrew. Clenching his teeth against the agony, Shunsui turned—and saw two graceful women.
One was a tall, eye-patched beauty, violet hair flowing, a red ribbon at her throat, a black patch over her right eye, the shorter blade in hand.
The other, a younger girl with violet bangs veiling one eye, turquoise irises bright beneath a skull-like hair piece, holding the longer blade. Standing close like sisters, they looked him over, blades poised.
The moment he saw them, Shunsui understood—and, pressing a hand to his chest, he gave a pained, wry smile. "Katen Kyōkotsu (Flower-Heaven, Crazy-Bone)…"
The one with the eyepatch laughed. "Wrong~ I'm Katen."
The veiled girl said coolly, "And I am Kyōkotsu."
(End of Chapter)
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